Starcrossed
by Bawdee
Summary: What if Katniss Everdeen had never volunteered for Prim? What if there was someone else that had a love for people that Katniss never had? Her name is Iris, and she is the girl on fire. There's only one problem: the starcrossed lovers don't just come from District 12 anymore. *Indefinite Hiatus - Not Abandoned*
1. Starcrossed

**The Hunger Games: Starcrossed**

 **Summary**  
Iris Collins has been living a life in the Merchant area of District 12 and hasn't had much to worry about besides her two best friends, Gale and Katniss. Iris has a large heart and cares deeply for people. But when Reaping Day comes and Primose Everdeen's name is called by Effie Trinket, Iris takes it upon herself to protect the innocent at any cost. As she arrives in the Capitol, everything she once knew unravels and she's suddenly caught in a torn world of obeying the Captiol, or obeying her heart and loving a bloodthirsty maniac who only she can truly help. She is truly one-half of a pair of Starcrossed Lovers

 **Cast**

Cara Delevingne as Iris Collins  
Alexander Ludwig as Cato  
Josh Hutcherson as Peeta Mellark  
Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss Everdeen  
Woody Harrelson as Haymitch Abernathy  
Elizabeth Banks as Effie Trinket  
Lenny Kravitz as Cinna

 **The Hunger Games: Starcrossed Original Soundtrack**

Abraham's Daughter – Arcade Fire  
Glory and Gore – Lorde  
Madness - Ruelle  
Safe Sound – Taylor Swift & The Civil Wars  
Control - Halsey  
Kill For You – Skylar Grey & Eminem  
I Know Places – Taylor Swift  
Eyes Open – Taylor Swift  
Game of Survival - Ruelle  
Love Is Childlike – The Low Anthem  
Bad Dream - Ruelle  
Just A Game – Birdy  
Sledgehammer – Rihanna


	2. Chapter One

**One**

The air is rigid and I can feel the wind blowing close to still throughout the environment. I would normally ignore this factor, but it's the only thing I can keep my mind on since it is the day of the Reaping. With only three hours until we are all placed in the town square, I can hardly think of anything other than one word: death.

When they bring us there, it'll be a miracle if someone weak is not called. Every Reaping for the last three years has been two people who are the weakest of all in the district. I'm nearing my last year to be called, being only seventeen. I know my name is only in there seven times since I don't live in the Seam, but I can't help that I feel a pang of fear going through my body every time the Reaping Day comes.

I stare out the window in my bedroom and try to focus my mind on the people in the streets outside, but not even that can remove the thoughts from my mind. All I see is Peacekeepers, and their white uniforms just assure me that a sad soul would be going to the Capitol to die.

"Iris," the house maid calls from outside my bedroom door. We do not need a housemaid, no, but my father felt that it would be appropriate to have one so that he could pay her and her family could have an income, "it's time for breakfast, and you need to be dressed right after."

"I'm aware, May," I say with a somewhat harsh tone. Normally, I would apologize, but I can't find myself to do that. I'm sure May understands since it is the day of the Reaping and even her children have to be in the Town Square with me.

I stand up from bed, wrap a sheet around me to use as a robe, and I open my bedroom door. I stare into the empty hall, and make my way downstairs. The kitchen is immediately at the end of the stairs and there is food sitting on the table, waiting to be eaten. It's only fruit since my mother only cooked at night, but it's still something.

I grab a pear from the bowl in the middle of the table and a take a bite. It's sweet so I'm pleased. I sit down in one of the chairs at the table and go over what will happen today to remain focused on getting through.

The escort will stand on stage and present a video on the Dark Days. After that, she will announce she will be calling out the female tribute, and then the female tribute goes on stage to greet her. Following that, she reaps the male tribute and he greets her. The tributes shake hands, and then we are dismissed to our homes to fear for the people leaving our district. It's a tough process, but I will withstand.

I stop eating the pear and my ears scan my home. It's quiet which means my father is in his study and my mother must still be sleeping. My mother has a sickness that is incurable, but it slowly kills her. It provides her with suffering, but she insisted that we not give her anything that could kill her quickly. She wants to live as long as she can and to see me get married, but if I get reaped today, there will be no marriage for me in the future.

I get up from the table and make my way back upstairs to my room. I lay down on my bed and stare upwards at the ceiling. I could run away if I really wanted to. I know how to use an axe; I used to follow Gale Hawthorne, a boy two years older than me, and Katniss Everdeen, a girl in my grade, into the woods to explore. They would hunt for food while I explored. I would offer them money for food, but they insist they get things for themselves. Of course, when they would need help, I'd provide them with support, but it wasn't often that they asked.

I figure now would be the best time to get dressed for the Reaping. It's not like there is much effort involved in the first place since it's only that: a Reaping. Sure, they want us to look our best in front of the entire nation of Panem, but most of us don't really care. I honestly wish I could just go in my pajamas, but my mother would never allow that – and nothing is worse than upsetting a terminally ill woman with a knack for fashion.

I drop the sheet wrapped around my body and I strip myself of my sleepwear – a large t-shirt from my father and slacks that my mother used when she was a teenager. Despite not living in the Seam, my family was still somewhat poor. My father worked hard with the mayor, and with my mother being stuck in bed, I had to work for our money as well. Typically, I'd help clean people's homes for money, but a lot of time I would make my money by helping take care of the children at school.

I turn the water on so that the tub will fill until it's halfway full so that I can stop it, and then I finally get in it. I soak for a few minutes, pouring the warm water all over my body, and washing my hair. My hair is dark, like my mother's since she was from the Seam, but my eyes are blue, like my father's since he is not.

A sigh escapes my lips and I rise from the tub, drying off with a towel I had grabbed before getting in. "Time to get ready for what could be my impending doom," I say darkly humorous to myself. I spend a lot of my time making comments like that.

Naked, I walk to my bedroom to pick out a dress to wear to the town square. Turning to my closet, I scan the four dresses I have and decide to go with the lightest shade of blue I have. I slip it on and walk towards the mirror to do my hair.

I scan my reflection in the mirror and grimace – I look like I haven't slept in days with the dark circles that lie under my eyes – which is an accurate portrayal. I hadn't been sleeping due to knowing the Reaping was so close, and it finally started to show. Wonderful. I pull my hair to the left side of my hair and braid it thoroughly so that it will hang there, braided.

"You look beautiful," I hear the broken voice and instantaneously recognize it as my mother. Her voice gets weaker and weaker every day; however, even if it was nearly undistinguishable, I'd still recognize it. I turn around and hug her tightly.

"I look beautiful because of you, mom. I get my beauty from you, remember? Otherwise, I'd get my beauty from dad, and then I'd be looking like a six-foot man with a braid and breasts." She laughs at my comment and I return a small smile. Our interactions get more awkward every time we speak since I'm always so worried she could just fall to her knees any given second from frailty, and she's aware I feel this way. I've never had to tell my mother how I feel about anything; she could just look at my eyes and know exactly what I felt. Fortunately for me, I obtained the same trait from her and could do the same.

"Even if you did take your father's looks, I'd still find you as beautiful as I do now," She runs her hand around my braid and I look down, unsure of how to respond.

"You think dad is beautiful though. I think you're biased." I say with a small laugh at the end of my sentence and she laughs once more.

"Perhaps I am, but you're my daughter and as your mother, I will compliment you until I am blind." She sighs softly and puts her hands on my shoulder. "Your name is only in there seven times, Iris. You won't be reaped. Say it over and over until you believe it's true and it will be."

I nod, taking her advice all the way in. "I won't be reaped."

She purses her lips into an approving smile, "That's my girl. Alright, now, Reaping begins in twenty minutes, and you need to get to town square. I'll see you after it's over. I love you, Iris." She hugs me once more and departs to her room.

Standard protocol would require my mother be in town square with the rest of the people, but my mother is barely healthy enough to get out of bed. Even the Capitol isn't stupid enough to make her leave the house unless it's an absolute emergency.

I slip on my best pair of dress shoes and walk down the stairs cautiously, nervous of what the outcome of today will be. I walk outside the front door and begin walking to town square. People are all over the streets – most are anxious and unsure of what to do because they're so scared their child will be reaped, but a lot are just apathetic. It's depressing how accustomed we have become of this lifestyle.

I step in line to have my finger pricked, and I notice Katniss is in front of me with her little sister, Primrose who everyone simply calls Prim.

"Katniss," I say, tapping on her shoulder, "are you nervous?"

"Yes," she responds, looking down at her little sister, "Prim had a bad dream this morning about how she was reaped, and I had to keep reminding her that her name is only in there once – there's no way she's going to be called."

I look at Prim, who looks down in nervousness, and I smile, "Prim, don't worry. You won't be reaped – my name is only in there seven times and I won't be. Katniss's name is only in there, what, twenty-two times?" I look at Katniss and she nods, and I continue, "She's yet to be reaped. You've got nothing to fear."

Prim looks at me and swallows hard, "Okay, I'm just scared." Her voice is soft, and I almost want to hug her, but I don't.

"It's okay to be scared, Prim. But everything will be okay. When you get to the table, all they're going to do is prick your finger for blood and then you're going to go sit with the girls of your age group. It's really simple, and everything will be fine." Katniss reiterated once more to her sister, and Prim just nodded.

"Have you seen Gale this morning?" I ask, doing everything in my power to change the subject.

She leans back with her voice in a whisper, "We were out in the woods this morning. We would've asked you to come, but Gale thought you'd want to stay in and talk with your mom in case you did get reaped."

I roll my eyes, "Of course that's what he said. Gale needs to stop worrying about me and worry about me shoving my axe up," I paused and look down at Prim, and then I whispered, "his ass."

Katniss chuckles at this and shakes her head, "I tell him every time he does this that you can handle yourself and he just ignores me. It's like he only hears what he wants to hear."

Before we can say anything else, Prim is up for her finger to be pricked and she starts whimpering. Katniss places her hands on Prim's shoulders and helps her breathe. All I can do is watch because Prim hardly knows me. Katniss gets her finger pricked, and then I get mine pricked as well. We lead Prim to the girls in her age group, and then we make our way to our own.

The mayor gets on stage to read to us about the Dark Days and the Rebellion while I look down, trying to bide my time with thoughts about what I'm going to do later tonight after this is over. I may read a new book from my father' study or I may just hang out with Katniss and Gale in the woods.

The mayor finishes speaking, and Effie Trinket, with a pink wig on, steps in front of the mic. She has a purple hat on her head made of flowers, and her face is caked in make-up. It's somewhat repulsive, but tolerable.

"Welcome, welcome," she begins, her voice mirroring the standard Capitol accent, "and happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!"

I cringe at the phrase, and I can feel Katniss cringing from two feet away. It's a ridiculous line to say over and over again. I feel Katniss's eyes on me and I can just imagine what she's thinking, "Can you believe how happy she is?" and to which I would respond, "Yeah, it's like the Capitol forgets the other districts are in poverty or something." We'd carry on with snide comments until Gale would join in and top our comments.

It's time for the drawing, and Effie shouts as flamboyant as ever, "Ladies first!" She wanders over to the large bowl with all of our names in it. She sticks her hand deep into the bowl and swirls all of the pieces of paper around until she grabs a white slip, pulling it out with a smile. Everyone is quiet, and I wonder if someone were to whisper if you'd hear it ten feet away.

She walks towards the podium and I can feel the tension rising all over the square, everyone hoping that isn't them. She clears her throat, and she speaks. Everyone stands in disbelief and even I am in awe.

It's Primrose Everdeen.

I sense Katniss to my left and she begins moving to the aisle where all the Peacekeepers stand, and before I know what happens next, my mouth opens and out comes the words I never thought I'd speak. District 12 officially has their first volunteer.


	3. Chapter Two

**Two**

"I volunteer!" I scream, my voice heard throughout the entire square. "I volunteer as tribute!" I can feel their eyes on me, and I dare them to judge me for this. Volunteering for a stranger – a twelve year old girl who wouldn't last a full minute in the arena, it would be so illogical to judge me for it.

"Oh my!" Effie nearly shouts with enthusiasm from the platform in front of all of us. I swallow the lump in my throat, and she speaks, "Would you please come forth and onto the stage?"

I nod and do as I'm instructed, walking cautiously towards Effie. My bodyt is filled with fear and I keep repeating the same question over and over in my head: what have I done? I know that I have volunteered for someone who would die in the initial bloodbath. I know that I will be leaving everyone I have ever cared about behind for this atrocity. I know that I may die in the initial bloodbath as well. My chances of winning are very slim.

Effie extends her hand to as I begin to walk up the stairs and she pulls me close, "Why don't you go on and tell Panem your name?"

"My name is Iris Collins," I say with my voice barely audible. My nerves have taken over.

"Iris is a beautiful name," she says while placing her hand on my back, "now, before we move onto our male tribute, I'd like everyone to give a round of applause for our very first volunteer from District 12!" I may not like the Captiol people, but there's something in Effie's voice that makes me genuinely believe she doesn't realize the severity of her actions or her attitude towards us.

As she waits for the clapping to begin, the sound of hands never comes. Instead, everyone in the district – Katniss and Gale included – lift up their hands with three fingers pointed towards me, and that is the moment I know I have made the right choice. Whether I face death inside the arena, it does not matter for my District knows that I just saved Prim's life.

Effie is taken aback, but she keeps her composure – pushing me aside next to Haymith who slipped on stage without me even noticing. He reaks of liquore and I do my best to not gag at the smell. I've never been able to handle the smell of liquor well.

"Now, for our male tribute!" She walks towards the bowl filled with names and swirls her hand around again. She pulls out a piece of paper, walks towards the mic, and clears her throat, "Our male tribute: Peeta Mellark!"

I freeze. Peeta is the boy who gave Katniss bread when she was starving and my father hadn't received his paycheck yet. Peeta is the boy who was nice to me when he found out I would be taking care of the children at the school. Peeta is the boy who gave me free cakes to give to the children. Peeta is too kind for this kind of torment.

I scan the crowd and see Peeta's eyes and they are glassy. He makes his way on stage, shakes Effie's hand, and Effie asks him a question which he answers with next to no confidence. Effie finishes speaking and we are rushed into the Justice Building to await transfer to the Captiol trains.

They place us in individual rooms so that our families among others can come to say goodbye. I stand in the small room which looked like it could be an office with my arms covering my chest as if I'm freezing. I'm terrified of what comes next, but this is the consequence of saving someone's life.

The door opens and in comes my father with arms open wide. He grabs me and hugs me as tight as he can, "Goodness, Iris," he whispers in my ear as he tightens me in the embrace, "I can't believe you did that for little Prim." I resist the urge to cry in my father's arms and I hug him.

"I couldn't just let her die, dad. I had to do it." Its' the only thing I can think of saying and he nods approvingly.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

We stand in silence for a short amount of time with his arms still wrapped around me, and then the door opens again. It's a Peacekeeper who says it's time for my father to leave, and then I am left alone once more in the cold room.

The door opens and Katniss and Gale come in. I can sense the worry in their body language. Gale hugs me first, and then he kisses my head. After that, Katniss throws her arms around me and lets out a small sob. "Thank you." She whispers as she tries to prevent herself from crying anymore.

I close my eyes and begin to cry with her. I'm never going to see my home again. "Katniss, protect her at all costs. Make sure that if she is reaped again, she knows how to survive." I say while wiping my eyes.

She nods and Gale speaks, "Iris, I know you. You know how to use an axe, I've seen you use it in the woods when you were exploring. When you get to the arena, find one, and then pretend your back in the woods outside of twelve."

Katniss joins in, finally able to speak again, "When you're in there, remember that you can't trust any of them. They want to kill you. So even if they act like they want to help, don't trust them. I've seen too many people die on TV from that."

I nod, "What about Peeta?"

"What about him?" Katniss counters.

"Do I trust him?" I ask, unsure of what to actually do.

"Yes, no, I don't know." She says, unsure what to make of the situation. "I mean, maybe you could stick together until there's just you and some other's left? I don't know what to tell you besides to study his actions, Iris. You know him better than I do. So just study him and wait for Haymitch to give advice."

"Alright," I say and then I feel her grab my hand, placing something inside my hand. I look at it and see that it's a Mockingjay pin.

"Prim found it the other day and told nme to give it to you. She said it's a good luck charm." The door opens, and it's time for them to leave.

Gale hugs me tight and looks me in my eyes, "Win this thing, Iris. We'll be here when you come back."

And just like that, they are gone.

Effie opens the door to my 'room' and motions for me to come along with her, and so I do. I walk side by side with Peeta and we make occasional glances at each other. He's been crying, and so have I. However, it's rational that we are upset – we just got reaped. So, we follow Effie and pose for pictures, and then we enter the town car to go towards the train.

The car ride is silent except for Effie going on about how exciting it is that she gets to be with the first volunteer in District 12 history, and I just stare out the window, hoping this is all a dream and that I will wake up at any minute in my bed and the games won't exist. It's stupid, but it's comforting.

We eventually reach the train and Effie motions for us to pose for pictures so the Capitol citizens may see the new tributes from District 12. The cameras flash and I don't smile. I'm unsure if Peeta does, but I can't force myself to show happiness at being reaped when I know I'm being shipped off to my death.

We board the train after pictures are finished being taken, and Effie leads us to some kind of dining cart where we sit down on a lavish couch. I look around the cart and I'm astonished at well-supplied it happens to be. The tables are covered in foods of all kinds and cloths that look like they were taken from an expensive shop that not even District 12 has, but I expect no less from a Captiol vessel. The walls are plastered with shades of gray, and I'm taken aback for once in a not negative manner. The Capitol is typically a refuge of bright colors, but this bullet train is covered in dark shades. It's almost as if they are darkened for us to be aware that we will be dead soon. I quit looking at my surroundings and sit down next to Peeta with Effie sitting in front of us.

"I don't suppose we've had enough time to introduce ourselves to one another properly," she begins, patting the bottom of her dress down, "I'm sure you remember me from last year; I'm Effie Trinket." She extends her hand to Peeta, he shakes it, then to me, and I shake it.

Peeta looks at me and then back at Effie, "I'm Peeta," he says with what seems like a nervous tone. Peeta Mellark, the boy who can charm his way out of anything is nervous. It's peculiar.

"I'm Iris," I say after clearing my throat.

Effie smiles, clearly very pleased with us and then she looks at me, "I know you'll eventually get asked this by everyone else in the Captiol, but I'd like to know first," she begins, "why did you volunteer for that girl?"

I look down and smile, "Well," I say while biting my bottom lip, "Prim was scared when we were in line to get to the town square and I assured her that nothing bad would happen with her sister, Katniss," I feel Peeta's eyes on me as I say her name and I try not to smile, "and then when you called her name, I felt like I let her down. Had I not volunteered, her sister would have, and she needs her sister more than anybody else – especially since her dad died and her mom is still dealing with bouts of depression."

I finish speaking and Effie seems amazed at how well I presented myself more than the actual reasoning, "You are such a kind soul," she whispers with her hand near her mouth, "with bravery like that, you could very well win the games."

I'm alarmed at her saying this in front of Peeta so I look at him and he just shrugs. He must be thinking the same thing. "I'm in shock over how well you two are presenting yourselves with these manners," Effie runs her hand through her wig, "last year's tributes seemed like they'd never known a thing about presentation."

Peeta manages to let out a small laugh and even I giggle, "Effie, in twelve, we aren't exactly taught manners. It just depends on who your parents are. Let's say that if you live in the Seam, which is a very poor area, you're taught to scavenge and you have no manners. However, if you're in the Merchant's area like I am, your parents make sure you're adequately taught manners. It's just a matter of where you're from."

Effie nods, "That makes much more sense." She turns her head to Peeta and offers him a smile, "you aren't speaking much, why don't you talk some?"

"I just don't really know what I'm supposed to say. Everything I could possibly think of saying, Iris says before I can get it out." He looks at me and laughs.

I smile at him, "Well, I'm sorry that I'm so great at thinking what you are, Peeta. It isn't my fault we're both smart."

"It's nice to see the tributes getting along, but please, can you keep your voices down." Words slurred and all, Haymitch stumbles into the room and lands on the floor, face down and his ass in the air. "I didn't see the floor here."

Peeta laughs and I bite my bottom lip once more, trying to contain my laughter. Effie is annoyed and I can no longer hold my laugh in. Eventually Peeta, Haymitch, and I are all laughing while Effie watches in disgust.

"You two may have manners, but finding this humorous is proposterous!" She nearly shouts at us. Peeta and I straighten up, but still find ourselves silently snickering, "And Haymitch, what have I told you about wandering around the train drunk? Did you forget that you landed in your own vomit last year?" She shakes her head, stands up, and leaves the dining cart, "I swear, it's like I'm in charge of a child."

Peeta and I sit in silence for a few minutes while Haymitch lies on the floor. The silence is comforting in an odd way – we're used to silence at home, yes, but in the train, there hasn't been silence since we got on board. And now, there is no sound except for Haymitch's heavy breathing. Finally, Peeta speaks up, "Uh, do you need a hand?"

Haymitch groans, "No, but I do need more liquor. Can you get me that?"

Peeta gets up and pours a glass of a brown liquid I assume to be whiskey. He hands it to Haymitch on the floor and the liquid is gone in a matter of seconds. He belches and then he stands up, "Contrary to Effie's beliefs, I'm not fully drunk," he belches again, "yet, anyway."

He sits himself where Effie was sitting and stares at us for a moment, "are you just going to stare back or are you going to introduce yourselves? 'Cause honestly, I was too busy thinking about the liquor on the train to make note of your names."

I roll my eyes, "I'm Iris and that is Peeta. For a mentor, you sure do drink a lot." I catch a small glare from Haymitch, but it eventually turns into him laughing.

"Well, sweetheart, when you don't know how to cope with losing your humanity, liquor seems like the best way out. Now, I'm going to go on back to my room with the rest of this whiskey. You two should probably get some rest so that when we get to the Captiol, I can actually deal with mentoring you in a more sober state." And just like that, Haymitch is gone and Peeta and I sit quietly on the couch.

"So," I begin, "what's your plan in the arena?"

"I don't exactly have one – I was hoping Haymitch would help, do you have one?" He counter asks.

I snort, "Sort of. I was just going to find a weapon and stick to trees."

"Not a bad idea. Maybe I can tag along?" he suggests and I shrug. I'm not entirely sure if I want an alliance when I know it will end with us both dead.

"Maybe," I say while unsure of what else I could possibly add, "if you don't mind, I'm going to head to my room. I'm exhausted and might actually sleep until tomorrow." I stand up and walk towards the door, but I stop and face him, "Goodnight, Peeta." And then I'm off to my bedroom.

The room that I am given is classic-looking; my bed has a dark bedspread; there is a holographic television that is a much more newer fashion than the one I have at home on the wall; there are curtains covering the windows; and the lights spread throughout look like they're mechanical candles.

I open the closet in the corner, and I notice that it's already compacted with clothes. I slip out of the dress I'm in and put on a t-shirt and slacks. I no longer feel as uncomfortable as I did before I stepped foot on the train. I turn to face the bed while pondering whether I should sleep or stay up and watch previous games. The latter wins, and I find myself watching the 73rd Hunger Games – at least, the very end of it.

It's a fight to the death between a dark-skinned boy and a blonde-haired girl; the girl is on top, clearly having an advantage since the boy is smaller than her, however, this quickly changes when he gathers all the strength he has in him and slams her head against the concrete. One. Two. Three. Four. Four times. I wince at the image and turn it off. I'm not sure why I thought this would be a good idea; I know I need to come up with a more in depth plan, but this is horrific.

Instead of focusing so heavily on this game, I switch to seeing the tributes of this year's game. Glimmer, a girl from District 1 with a sort of joyousness that I only see once a year in twelve when it's a holiday, is on stage with a boy named Marvel. In District 2, Cato, a boy who's bloodlust is reflected in his reflection, stands on stage with his fellow tribute, Clove, who looks even more ecstatic than Glimmer. Tributes go by faster and then 12 appears on screen. I swallow hard and watch the outcome. Effie is on stage, talking about how she is about to announce the female tribute, and then she reads the card. The entire town is silent, and then I see Katniss about to announce she volunteers, but I do it before her. I make note that Gale looks like he is about to run up to me when I speak in the video. Effie welcomes me on stage, and then they salute me. I can't watch anymore, so I turn the television off.

I sigh softly and get underneath the sheets in the bed. I turn the light off and I close my eyes, trying to think of things that would make me feel at peace, but it's a hard task to do.

Hours past, and I awake with sun barely gleaming through the curtains in my room. We must be about to reach the Capitol because not even a full minute after I'm awake, I hear Effie knock on the door, telling me to wake up.

Yawning, I slide out of bed and make my way towards the dining room of the cart; before I step in, I look at Peeta and Haymitch speaking enthusiastically through the door window. The door opens and I walk through, sitting down at the table.

"It's about time you woke up, sweetheart," Haymitch says as he reaches across me to put jam on his toast.

"What are you two talking about?" I ask in a semi-accusatory tone. I know better than to have one, but I can't help that I feel a little betrayed that Haymitch is already giving advice before I'm in the room.

"I was just telling him about how we both sort of have an outline of a plan in the arena," Peeta begins, but Haymitch cuts him off.

"It's a smart idea – grabbing something close, and running away, but it can definitely be tricky." I raise my eyebrows, and he continues, "Depending on the type of arena you're in determines what you'll be able to actually do. And since you're from twelve, you better hope there's a woods area in the arena."

"Why?" Peeta asks, clearly confused.

I roll my eyes, and Haymitch answers, "Because unless you've miraculously spent time learning how to swim, which is illegal since there are no lakes within the District lines, you're pretty much screwed. So, the next best option is to get sponsors!" His voice is excited, and I'm unsure whether it's sarcasm or not.

"Sponsors? Shouldn't that be easy?" I ask him, showing that contrary to popular belief, we have knowledge of the games.

"Easy if you know how to talk to people, but judging by how neither of you have pissed me off, I'd say you're pretty good at it." He responds.

Effie clears her throat, "Language, Haymitch," she scolds him, "but sponsors _are_ easy if you can work well with people, and I say you two have a fair chance since your manners are so well. Last year's not only disappointed me, but they disappointed the Captiol people as well. I'm sure you two remember their interviews on Caesar's show."

I did remember, in fact. They were very hostile towards Caesar who tries to make everyone feel comfortable, and they didn't make it far in the arena. Once the games started, one ran into the bloodbath while the other made it out. One died from lack of sponsors, and the other died from stupidity.

"Precisely. Now," Haymitch stops speaking as Peeta blurts out, and runs towards the window.

"We're here!" he shouts like a little boy, "It's beautiful."

I walk towards the window and gaze at the beauty of the landscape. As overly-decorated as the Captiol may seem, the vast size of it was beautiful; especially the mountains behind it. But our view comes to a halt as we enter the train tunnel that leads to the Tribute Train Station.

"We'll get back to this later," Haymitch says, standing up, "but right now, you two better get to waving because these people are either your death or salvation."

I would speak, but then I see Peeta waving. I look out the window and start waving as well. Peeta knows exactly how to please – I guess I'm lucky we're allies.


	4. Chapter Three

**Three**

Entering the Capitol is much more dramatic than I thought it would ever be. We're escorted by Effie towards our living quarters before we see our stylists, which I somewhat expected, but we're surrounded by Peacekeepers to keep the civilians from mobbing us. It feels weird being inside of the place that has reigned over Panem with an iron fist over all these years and seeing how perfect it really is. It's like there cannot be a flaw within the Capitol walls, and I almost feel bad for all the citizens here. _Almost._

I look around and through the cracks of where the Peacekeepers bodies are not covering and I'm almost awestruck at how ridiculous the people here look. Covered in glitter, make-up; anything that looks like it can be worn, they're probably wearing. I try not to smile, but I can feel it somewhat creeping on my lips.

"Iris!" Effie's voice snaps me back into reality, and I'm jolted, stopping in my tracks. "Darling, you're staggering behind, and we're on a tight schedule. Come, come, you'll have time for gazing at the city later on."

I follow closer to Peeta, Haymitch, and her while listening to the screams of the people. Effie is on a monologue about our living quarters, and there's just something in her voice that makes it easy to tell she is almost annoyed at them screaming over her. At one point, it seems like she is almost scowling at them, but then her face reverts back to the perfect smile she usually has. Maybe I imagined it.

The living quarter's building, also known as the Tribute Center, loomed over us with it seeming more than fifteen stories high. Effie began explaining to us that the Penthouse suite is ours due to us being the last District, and the Districts go from bottom to top with District 1 to District 12. However, the roof is shared between all the tributes, and there is always a Peacekeeper or two on the roof, watching us to make sure we don't kill each other before the games begin.

"Now, before we go into the suite, I'd like to tell everyone where there rooms will be. Iris, yours will be next to Haymitch's on the right side of the entrance; Peeta, yours will be the one near the street. All of the rooms are the same size, and I don't want to hear any complaining. But, if you must complain, please, let it be about something like the food isn't here fast enough. I do not want to handle a fight between _my_ tributes." The way she says 'my tributes' makes me question if Effie actually cares, or if she is just happy that she has tributes that she likes.

We step into the suite, and Peeta and I both are in awe over the luxurious manner of the penthouse. It's decorated in the finest things I have ever seen, and I'm quite sure I've never heard of half of the materials used here. This must have all come from District 1.

I look to my left and I see a dining room table that is colored exotically and it has a set of glass chairs tucked into it. I look to my right and I see what looks like a den. The couch is large enough to sit about eight people, and the television is nearly as half of the wall. It's so beautiful here that I have to pinch myself to remember this is just a mask to cover our impending doom.

"Oh, and last thing!" She pipes up, with a sudden burst of new enthusiasm, "I will be doing my best to get you sponsors, but you only get them if Haymitch approves. He has to say yes, or you're on your own, my darlings."

"Don't worry, you two. I'll make sure you get sponsors, just don't screw up. Do you understand? Because if I get them and you two screw up before I send you in the games, you're as good as dead." His voice is somewhat harsh, and then I realize – he hasn't had an ounce of liquor since maybe before I woke up.

He walks into a kitchen that is down the hall, and he comes back with a dark bottle of wine, "I'll be in my room until tomorrow." And just like that, he is gone.

Effie rolls her eyes and continues speaking, "Anyhow, your stylists are waiting for you in the beauty center. Before you meet them, though, you will be taken care of by a prep team. They'll do all sorts of things to make you beautiful, and I cannot stress how important it is that you be on your best behavior. If your stylists don't like you, then you might as well say goodbye now. Let's go, loves." She motions with her hand for us to follow her and we enter the elevator that waits for us outside of our suite.

When we arrive at the Beauty Center, Effie informs us she'll be back to see us when it's time for the chariot ride; we tell her that we'll see her later, and then we are escorted towards the back to be worked on. Peeta is led by the escort into his room, and I'm escorted into my very own, waiting to be touched by strangers.

I stand in the room silently for a few minutes, and then three people who look like they've never seen anything but luxury in their lives step into the room. There's a blonde woman, an orange-haired man, and a green-skinned woman.

"Please, strip and lay down on the metal table," the blonde instructs me, and I do as told. Not long after I lay down, the get to work on me. They hose me down, twice, and then start ripping the body hair off of me. It's painful in a sense that I feel like I'm being scratched, but it's tolerable so I lay with gritted teeth. Soon, they're finished and I lay in a robe on the metal table they instructed me to lay on.

"Cinna will be in here shortly," the green-skinned woman said with a pleasant voice.

I lay in the silence, hoping that Cinna will not be as aggressive and I sigh to myself, hoping he hurries up so I don't feel the ice cold sensation pressed against my body.

The door opens, and I sit up, looking to see what my stylist looks like. Dark-skinned and almost normal looking. The only hint of Capitol influence he has in him is the gold eyeliner on his eyes. It's different, but pleasantly so.

"Hi, Iris," he begins, extending a hand, "I'm Cinna, and I'll be making sure you look your very best in interviews among all else."

I extend my hand as well and we shake. His grasp is tight, but I can tell it's sincere. "It's nice to meet you," I say, trying to sound confident, but I just sound like a little girl.

He nods, and then he shifts into the stylist persona he is, "Now, before we get started on anything, I'd like to know – who did your hair and dressed you?"

"I did," I say.

He smiles and praises me, "It's beautiful, and definitely will be shown as a reflection of who you are. Which is exactly what we want; we need you to be yourself and let them come to your aid when you are in the arena."

The way he speaks and presents himself as if he's never done this before, but still has a sense of confidence within him, "You've never done this before, have you?" I inquire. He must be new; I've never seen his face before. Although, I never really paid any mind to the games before, but still, remembering faces is one of the things I'm best at.

"I am," he begins, and I interrupt,

"So they gave you the most disappointing District, right?"

He laughs, "No, Iris, I requested your District along with Portia, Peeta's stylist. I thought that maybe if I presented your District differently than usual, you'd have better luck at gaining more sponsors, but by the looks of you volunteering for that little girl, you've already got a few lining up to help you out."

I'm unsure of what else to say; he turns around to leave the room, but stops, looks back at me, and motions for me to follow him.

We leave the room and he leads to a small dining area that has tables with only two chairs facing each other. We sit across from each other and he presses a button, bringing up a bunch of food I'd never really eaten before. Baked chicken with orange slices as the main meal; potatoes smothered in something I've never seen before; and for desert, we have fried ice cream.

I stare at the food, almost like I was seeing something holy for the first time, and I have to fight myself to not gorge on it the second it appears. I remember that I do have manners, and I use them wisely. Grabbing the knife in front of me, I cut a slice of chicken and place it onto the plate in front of me, and then Cinna makes a comment that I'm not sure I ever thought someone in the Capitol would say out loud.

"It's disgusting, isn't it?"

"What is?" I ask.

"The fact that while we are able to gorge ourselves on food, the rest of the people of Panem are dying of hunger." He grimaces, and I can tell he means it. I swallow hard, trying not to take a jab at the Capitol, but I can't help think that it is, in fact, disgusting.

"So," says Cinna, "Iris, we need to discuss what you will be wearing for the opening ceremony on the chariots. My partner, Portia, is currently informing Peeta of the idea that we came up with whenever we were discussing how to dress you this year." He takes a sip of the coffee in front of him, "I mean, it is customary to dress you in something representing your District."

I think back to what the people wore in the previous years that I watched the games, and it's ridiculous to think of the outfits. They were dressed in coal miner outfits, and it was almost like the previous stylists were trying to make them the laughing stock of the Capitol. I almost react negatively in response to what he says, but I have to remind myself that I need sponsors, and Cinna really does seem sincere in his part of helping me. I just hope he doesn't want us to be naked and covered in dark paint like a year when I was younger.

"So, are we going to be naked with 'coal dust' or are we going to be wearing coal miner outfits?" I ask, hoping his answer will shock me.

"Neither actually," and its official, I am shocked. He smiles and makes note of my shock, "You see, since wearing the coal miner outfits are very overdone, and being naked is downright outrageous – even I am still shocked they did that. However, Portia came up with a great idea, and after tweaking it, I am inclined to say it's our best work. We're going to make you beautifully iconic."

"Oh, god." I whisper.

Cinna laughs once more, "Don't fret, Iris. You won't look silly. So, you're from District 12 – the home of Coal among other minerals, but mostly coal. Instead of focusing on coal mining, let's focus on something else."

"Like what?"

"Well, what do we do with coal? We set it on fire to burn it." He says, and then he purses his lips into a smirk, "you're not afraid of fire, are you, Iris?"

I shake my head, thinking back to times I've burned myself cooking dinner, and then shrugging off the pain minutes later.

"Good."

A few hours later, I'm dressed from head to toe in what will either make everyone want to sleep with me, or make everyone want to put me out of my misery from overly-exposed burns. I'm dressed in a black unitard that is from my neck to my feet. I have knee-high boots on, and my shoulders are exposed. I have a head-piece on and my hair is in a braid, pulled to the side where it cannot be burned. We have capes on with streams of red, orange, and yellow. Cinna plans to light our suits on fire seconds before the Capitol sees us.

"No worries, it isn't real. It's a synthetic and you should be free of any kind of damage that would be caused by a real one. You'll be okay, Iris." Something about the way he says this makes me unconvinced it's synthetic, but it's far too late to back out now. Maybe I'll catch on fire and die before I reach the arena.

Cinna had barely placed any make-up on my face except for black eyeliner along my eyes. My face is free of any facial hair I had when I first arrived, and my body feels completely raw after being waxed free of hair only hours ago. "When you're done here, the entire nation will know who you are. When you're in that arena, they'll all know the girl who was on fire, Iris Collins."

It's amusing that underneath his creativity and vivid imagination, Cinna is a man that is seemingly ready to die for his art.

After losing him earlier to Portia and his team, Peeta shows up looking somewhat enraged but still charming. He's wearing a black body suit and his shoulders are covered – I'm somewhat envious – and he's wearing a cape like mine. Portia is right behind him with their team, and Cinna and Portia hug, clearly excited over what is about to happen.

Portia and Cinna lead Peeta and me towards the lower levels of the Beauty Center which is where the chariots await for us. The stables are where the horses live, and when we arrive, tributes and their stylists are practically running around to make sure everything is perfect. It's refreshing to see Portia and Cinna so calm as they lead us to our own chariot. Peeta gets in the chariot first, and I follow suit. We stand in a silence for a minute until I break it while Portia and Cinna talk amongst themselves.

"What do you think of us?" I ask, trying to make light of the horrid situation and avoid the topic of us dying out there.

He grits his teeth, "I do not want to be lit on fire. If we start burning, we rip each other's capes off?"

I nod, "Done." I look around and I'm amazed that the thousands of people that live in the Capitol can actually all fit in this area just to see who we are like they hadn't seen us on the television two days prior. "I know Haymitch told us to be likable, but if I'm lit on fire, I might just slap Cinna."

"Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to see us off? Same with Effie." Peeta asks.

I shrug, "Knowing Haymitch, he's wasted, but I don't see any escorts so Effie must be with the rest of them doing god knows what." I say.

The opening music begins. It's almost impossible not to have the notes memorized inside your mind at this point due to us hearing it everywhere in Panem, even when the games are not on. Massive doors slide open, revealing the street our chariots will lead us on and I'm intrigued to know how awry things could go if the horses were to react negatively. The ride only lasts twenty minutes – we go to town square, and then the training center.

District 1's chariot motions forward, and I'm in awe over how beautiful they look. Spray-painted in silver and decorated in glitter, the tributes look as if they lived in the Capitol. The jewels on their body makes it known they are for sure from District 1.

District 2's chariot lurches forward, and then the rest follow suit. We move forward slowly, and then Cinna climbs onto the chariot. He messes around with what we are wearing, clearly searching for something, and then he finds it: a button hidden behind my cape. He presses it and grins, "it works. Good luck, girl on fire." And then, he hops off while Peeta and I stand still, waiting to face the Capitol.

"Hey, he's saying something," Peeta says, nudging my arm. I look at him and he's pointing at Cinna. I can't understand what he's saying, but Peeta must be able to read lips. "He wants us to hold hands," he says.

"Alright, but this only as tributes in power. Nothing romantic, okay?" I say.

He nods, and we begin holding hands while our chariots lead us onto the street. At first, everything is surreal, but the more we see the people, the more I begin to realize how obsessed with us they truly are. Many of them are screaming our names already without really knowing us. The second we come into sight on the big screen, Peeta raises our hands in the air. I hear the screams all over the place.

 _District 12!_

It's disgusting how much they worship us when they know we're about to die. However, we wave and blow kisses at them – letting them know we love them as much as they love us, or so their delusional minds think.

I feel a weird feeling of notoriety and pride running through my veins. I am known; the people here will remember me even after I'm dead because of Cinna. I have to thank him after this is over. He made me who I will go down in history as: the girl on fire, the tribute from District 12 of the 74th Hunger Games, Iris Collins.

Someone throws me a lily; I sniff it and grin at them admiringly. I must put on the strongest front possible to tolerate this. I blow a kiss as well, and I swear that they nearly fall over after I do. I try not to laugh, but the music comes overhead, shaking my thoughts.

We're entering the City Circle now, and President Snow is about to talk to Panem as a whole about how the Dark Days were horrible, and this is punishment, and a bunch of other shit I really do not care about. He comes forth and he begins talking. I pick apart his appearance in my mind; wondering what he looks like without his white facial hair.

He finishes speaking and sends us back on our way to the stables, and Peeta and I continue our composure as the cool tributes from District 12, and we wave without an ounce of sincerity. Once we reach the stables, our prep teams nearly attack us with gratitude, and I feel a sense of accomplishment.

That is, until I feel eyes on my back. I whip around and the boy from District 2 is staring at me. It isn't a glare, and it isn't a sight full of praise. It's filled with something else. Maybe lust, maybe not. It surely feels like lust. I blush, and then he begins grinning, noticing I am. I sigh, roll my eyes and quickly turn back around.

"You did great, Iris," Cinna whispers into my ear as he hugs me.

I smile at him, but all I can think about is how the boy was staring at me. I tense again, and I know for a fact he's staring once more, so I turn around.

"Careful, girl on fire," he whispers as he stands in front of me. In the amount of time it took for me to turn around and hug Cinna, he's behind me; "play with fire too long and you might ignite everything around you."

His tone is wanting and I feel my cheeks getting hot. It's a weird sensation that I feel as he speaks and I'm not sure what it is – I've never had this feeling before.

"What do you mean?" I ask, clearly ignoring the fact that he's making my throat dry, standing so close.

"You'll find out eventually," he chuckles, "see you in training, Iris." And then he turns on his heel to leave.

"Wait!" I call out, but he keeps walking, ignoring me.

"What was that about?" Peeta asks as I turn back around to face my group. Everyone is talking amongst themselves, but Peeta must've been paying attention the whole time.

"I have no idea," I whisper, "but I have a feeling I'll know tomorrow."

We end up leaving the stables and I feel the sensation I felt as the boy talked to me go away, but there's still one thing I just can't seem to figure out: what the hell did he mean about igniting everything around me.


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N: Honestly, I've kind of had this chapter chilling in my documents for a month and I've been trying to find time to write for Starcrossed, it's just so hard when I've got so much to do lately. However, I promise I'll have Chapter 5 & maybe Chapter 6 done before January 1! Also, thank y'all for the reviews and follows and stuff.**

 **xx - roman & athena**

* * *

 **Four**

Going back to the Tribute Center, which is actually the Training Center, according to Effie, is a bit less exciting than I had thought it would be. Effie has her head held high, Cinna seems uncomfortable, Haymitch is drunk as ever, Peeta is silent, and Portia is quiet. I feel a pang of guilt, as if it could possibly be my fault, but I just remain in silence until we actually reach the elevator. The door slams shut, and we're on our way up to the penthouse suite.

I examine the elevator around me for the first time since I've gotten here, and it's somewhat admirable. The technology is new and better than anything I've ever seen before, but I mentally scold myself. Of course it looks this way; I'm in the Capitol. The walls of the elevator are silver with a hint of blue and I wonder how long it took for them to actually develop that, and when it was developed. Was it developed before the Dark Days, or was it developed and manufactured afterwards when they were fixing the 'problem' with the Districts. It would be best if I didn't think about it because thinking of how it was back then always sets off some kind of fire within my stomach.

The elevator doors open once more, signaling that we have reached our suite. All of us walk out in an almost uniform pattern, but Peeta motions for me to go forward. The silence is strange, but the silence turns into a mere coincidence once all of us are outside the elevator. Effie begins complimenting us in ways I never thought Effie would do, almost as if she was sucking up to us – which would be strange, but not unheard of. She tells us that our handling of the people screaming our names was perfect; that the way I handled catching the lily was the most beautiful thing she'd seen in years; and then she tells us that if we're interested, we can take an approach that the other victors would not dare do because of how much of a taboo it is. I pursed my lips into a smile the second she said taboo and that is when I know that I have to hear what this plan is.

"It would be insane, and most probably a first – but it would cause such an uproar and have you so many sponsors," Effie says while motioning her hands around rapidly like she was going to explode of excitement, "but before I get into it, I know that you two would have to approve and Haymitch would, of course, mention his counsel on it."

I look at Haymitch, expecting him to know what she's talking about, but he doesn't budge and lets her continue speaking.

"You know what? I'm famished and I think it would be delightful if we had a full course meal before we start talking publicity, althought I am _dying_ to get you two in on my little plan. Come, come," she says. She turns around from facing us and leads us towards the dining room where three avoxes await us.

They stand there, completely silent, and I have to remind myself to not ask them for anything due to them being unable to speak – having their tongues ripped out as punishment. It's disgusting.

We sit at the table, Effie and Haymitch on one side; Peeta and I on the other; and Portia and Cinna across from each other. It's a lovely layout, and even I am inclined to agree that it's beautiful, but now is not the time to admire architecture.

Effie continues to refuse to tell us her master plan until we have eaten, and because I am so fascinated, I oblige. We're handed out the most delicate of foods, and before we begin, Effie makes sure that all of us are sitting properly with our napkins on our laps. I roll my eyes.

We begin eating and Effie begins speaking, "So, about my master plan, I was thinking of doing something similar to portraying you two as lovers caught up in the games," she says enthusiastically.

I stop eating, and I gape at her. Is she being serious? Why would I want to be Peeta's lover? I barely know anything about him. So I make her repeat herself, "What?"

"I said, maybe we could portray you two as lovers."

Peeta drops his fork, and I feel like I might do the same. Effie has just taken away my appetite, "No," I say, "no way in hell am I doing that."

"Language, Iris!" Effie snaps.

I ignore her and Peeta speaks, "No way. Iris and I met for the first time _today_ and you want to portray us as lovers? We're not going to pretend to do that when we'd only come across as awkward, Effie."

I think about speaking, but Haymitch starts laughing, "I told you they'd never say yes, Effie, but you just had to go on and ask them."

"You knew?" I ask, my tone cold. "I thought you weren't supposed to keep anything important from us." Cinna looks at me wit ha disapproving expression and I know that I was too cold.

"Of course I knew, Iris. Every mentor knows this, but none of us are stupid enough to actually go with it. It's a death sentence from the Capitol and the Gamemakers." He says, throwing his napkin on his lap onto the table.

Effie takes a sip of the liquid in her glass and glares at Haymitch, "I don't think it's a stupid idea, Haymitch, but since you're the mentor, you know best." Something about the way Effie says this makes me crack a smile. She's being sarcastic with him.

"Effie, why would you think we'd go with that idea?" Peeta asks.

I roll my eyes once more – here we go, Effie on a monologue.

"I thought that since you are my tributes, I would do everything in my power to get you sponsors. I figured, if I make you two the most valuable tributes in the games, you'd have sponsors lined up down the street to want to save you. I want you two to win, remember that."

Apparently, Effie has a soft spot that isn't fill with a snobbish attitude.

Peeta stands up, "that's very thoughtful of you, Effie. But if you'll excuse me, I'm exhausted and would like to go to bed. See you in the morning," he says, and then he's off.

I decide to follow suit, "Goodnight all of you, I will see you in the morning as well." I stand up to leave as they all murmur goodnight to the both of us, and as I walk away, I can sense the conversation changing to something else. It doesn't feel sinister, but it feels dark – like they're up to something devious.

I enter my bedroom and stare at in awe; it's as big as my living room. The walls are the same color as the elevator, and the floors are made of a soft wood. The bed is in a corner and there is a scenic panel for the wall like in the train. I see a mirror in another corner and examine myself in the mirror. I don't look like me, and I don't like it.

I toss the head piece on the ground and then I pull my hair out of the braid that Octavia put it in. It's flowing naturally once more and I relax. I slip off the boots and toss them next to my head piece. I pull of the unitard and I feel my exposed skin chill with the cool air of my room. I turn around and begin searching for other clothes that could possibly be in here, but no luck. Then I see it – a yellow tank top and black slacks placed on my bed as if I had looked over it.

Sliding the clothes on makes me feel much more at ease, and then I lay down in under my sheets. It has been a very long day. I arrived at the Captiol; I've ben nearly skinned; I avoided catching on fire; I've caught the attention of everyone in Panem. Then I remember, I caught the attention of the District 2 boy: Cato. I learned his name back in the train, that's right.

But what could he want with me? What could I possibly mean to a Career? Spending what feels like an hour analyzing everything about him exhausts me, and then I drift away into darkness.


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N: hi guys! i know it's been forever and i apologize (with a super long chapter), but i got busy with life and etc. but i promise this story isn't over yet, and i have a few pages with the whole thing planned out. i also have the arena put on graph paper, and i think all of you will love it. updates will come more soon, and i begin the next chapter tomorrow!**

 **xx**

* * *

 **Five**

My dreams are grim, and very vivid. I'm in the arena surrounded by all of the tributes – all of the ones who are not dead are coming after me so I have hidden in a tree. Rain is pouring and sleet is beginning to come down as well. The air is cold and I am wearing nothing but a short-sleeved t-shirt and shorts. It's like the Gamemakers in my own dream want me to die faster than I would hope. I end up surrounded by all sets of Careers with swords and knives, ready to impale me like I'm some kind of prey and they are the predators, but they can't reach me in the tree. That is, until Peeta throws me off the branch I am on and I fall into the pool of blades.

I sit upright in bed, sweating profoundly and breathing heavy. "It's just a dream," I whisper to myself, but if it was just a dream, why am I still scared? I sigh softly and shake my head as if I'm shaking the nightmare away. I feel tears in my eyes and I know that I must have been crying in my sleep. I wipe the tears away.

As I stop focusing on calming my mental state, I notice that the sun is beginning to shine through the curtains covering the window. _Dawn, how great._ Normally, I'd be happy with the morning beginning, but I'm dreading this morning for one particular reason: it's training day. I'm going to be looked at like I'm some kind of meal today.

With a hint of disgust, I throw myself out the bed and I begin creeping towards the bathroom connected to my room. I need to bathe or else Effie might have some kind of tantrum when she sees me this morning. I turn the water on, but not too hot so I don't fall back asleep. The water goes down my back in a swift motion, and I wonder if the Capitol people have ever had to deal with the difficulty of bathing in something so low quality like in 12, but I roll my eyes at myself. Of course they didn't.

When I am out the shower, I feel more awakened, but I am still somewhat tired. Maybe they have something to fix that in the dining room. I dry off with the towel I had left on the counter and I walk to my room. A long-sleeved burgundy tunic, tight black pants, and leather shoes await me when I enter the room. I slip them on and place my hair into a bun. No point in braiding it if I'm to be training and I have to pull my hair down, I guess.

It feels strange to not have something so polished to wear today, but I know that this won't last long. We still have interviews to do in the next few days, but that will be the last time I look nice unless I miraculously win the games.

I was never instructed on what time we're supposed to meet in the dining room, but I'm sure that since it's Haymitch, it'll be later than it should be. So, I do what any hungry person would do; I go to the dining room and rummage around for food. Anything I could possibly ever dream about eating is before me, and I throw food on my plate like my life is depending on it. Eggs; bacon; sausage; waffles; anything that looks appealing, it's on my plate. I grab a fork and some napkins and place it on the table. I stop in my tracks when I realize I forgot an important factor of eating: something to drink. I search around until I find an orange liquid that looks somewhat appealing. I pour some in a glass and I taste it. It's citrusy, almost like it could be from an orange – then I realize: orange juice. I bring the glass to the table where my food awaits and then I begin eating. After I finish, I stare out the penthouse window. The sun is rising over the mountains surrounded the Capitol and for a few seconds, I feel like I'm not going to die within a few days.

I begin thinking of home – how's my mother's health? Is my father home a lot? Are Katniss and Gale hunting in the woods at this very second? I think about how just a few days ago, our biggest concern was whether I was going to pay for them to get food that week, and now, all I can think about is how I will be dead in a few days if I don't play my cards right. I think about Cato, and how he might be the one to kill me with how he was looking at me. He was full of lust, I think, or maybe it was the bloodlust I saw when he first volunteered.

My thoughts are interrupted when Haymitch and Peeta come into the room and tell me good morning. It's a pleasant feeling I receive when they do – almost as if they sincerely care, but then I notice something about Peeta. He is wearing the same outfit I am and then the feeling suddenly goes away.

I scowl and think about all the things I will say to Effie when I see her, but then I realize it isn't just her involved in this too; it's Portia and Cinna making the outfits. Great, I will be insulting three people at once. But it's a bit asinine to do this to us, especially when we both declined the idea of being the "Star-Crossed Lovers" of District 12. I know Haymitch told us to do what our stylists tell us to do, but I can't help that I feel a little anger at them for trying to make us something we aren't. It's a bit ridiculous, but then again, it _is_ the Capitol.

My nerves are uneasy as I sit before Haymitch and Peeta; despite the fact that it's just the three of us in here with avoxes, it doesn't soothe my nervous system. I can't shake the thought of how training will go today. I may humiliate myself; or I may just show off that I'd be a good ally that they should kill right before it gets down to the final four careers. I sigh and finally decide that this would be the best moment to actually open my mouth, however, Haymitch opens his mouth before I have any time to talk.

"It's time to get down to the crucial factors: first off, if either of you want to train separately, say it now or forever hold your peace," he smirks at the end of his sentence, almost as if he's proud of himself for the little joke he made. I struggle to not roll my eyes at him, and then I focus back on what he has just said.

Peeta and I sit silent for a few seconds as if an elephant is in the room, and then we speak in unison: "why would we ask to be trained separately?"

"Well, since you're more than likely going to be pitted against each other towards the end, I figured that if you have any secret skill you don't want the other to know about, I can help you train it without the other seeing what it is," says Haymitch, sinking his teeth into a piece of fruit.

Peeta glances at me and I glance back, "I'm good – I mean, I've got nothing to hide," I say, "what about you, Peeta? You good too?"

He shrugs, "I pretty much show what I'm capable of."

My mind flashes back to twelve and I imagine just what Peeta really is capable of. I know that he did the cakes at the bakery – it was easy to figure out since his parents looked like they didn't care enough about it; and Katniss claims she'd saw him throw a hundred pound pack of flour over his shoulder once, but part of me wondered if there really was more than just that. I mentally scold myself; it doesn't matter if he's hiding anything, as friendly as he seems right now, he probably won't be the same in the arena.

"Coach us together," Peeta says and I murmur in agreement.

"I'm sorry, what was that, Iris?" asks Haymitch, grinning.

I roll my eyes and groan, "what Peeta said."

He snickered and then regained whatever posture he had, "all right, now do me a favor and tell me what you can both do."

"I can paint," Peeta begins, "I did the cakes at the bakery."

"I think he meant like skill wise that could help you in the arena," I say.

"Actually, painting can help depending on the circumstance. Say you're in the woods and need a place to hide – you get access to stuff that can help you and you can camouflage yourself until you're safe."

"That was more insightful than I expected," I say.

Haymitch snorts, "So what can you do? Is your hidden talent your attitude?"

I narrow my eyes at him, "actually, I'm good with an axe."

"How good?"

I hesitate; Haymitch already thinks I'm cocky, but that might be one of the reasons he likes me. But if I get too cocky, he might start to dislike me, and I don't need him do to that – it ruins my chances of getting a sponsor and it ruins any chance I have of being civil with him if I win. "Decent."

"Didn't Katniss say you don't miss when you throw a few weeks ago?" Peeta asks and I shoot him a disapproving look. He ignores it and keeps talking, "one of her friends was talking about hunting or something and I heard that whenever she throws her axe, she usually doesn't miss."

Haymitch raises a brow in question, "that true, Iris?"

I sigh, "yes."

"And you said nothing because?" asks Haymitch.

"I don't want to come off as too arrogant, but Peeta just had to go up and above and hail me like I'm so goddess at wielding an axe. I mean, he's pretty good at stuff too. Katniss once said she saw him toss a hundred pack of flour over his head and he also is really good at wrestling." I say, trying to get the focus off of me.

"Yes, and I'm sure the arena will be filled with sacks of flour for me to throw at people." Peeta snapped.

"Don't forget that I said you're good at wrestling."

"Oh yeah, I'm gonna wrestle someone to death. Genius, Iris." He says.

"No, but if you can wrestle someone, I'm sure you can figure out how to punch someone. There's always hand to hand combat, Peeta. Grab a sword or a knife or something and you just tackle them and stab. Don't pretend you're weak because you aren't." I say.

"But maybe I am! Maybe I won't get the hang of fist fighting; maybe I'll get killed before I get the chance to defend myself. You, on the other hand, will be able to sink your axe into somebody because you're better at surviving than I am – you've been in the woods, I've only been in the bakery. You have people already eyeing you, I don't." he shouts.

"How would you even know that people are eyeing me and not you?" my voice is as heightened as his.

"You saw the way Cato acted around you after the chariots – you may actually be an ally of the careers; I won't last five minutes around them in the arena." He scoffs.

This shakes me up; he may actually be right about finding allies with the careers, but do I really want to put myself in that kind of power struggle? Do I really want to help be responsible for Peeta's death? He seems to genuinely think he won't make it.

"You'll have allies, Peeta. You'll have sponsors too." I say.

"You sure about that? Because so far, I doubt it." He deadpans.

"Stop thinking you're so useless! What happened to the boy on the train? You were so eager to live and now you're just ready to give up and die. What happened, Peeta?" I scream.

He stays silent, unsure of what he could say, I imagine. His head is down and he must be looking at his hands, and I sit in awe of how someone so determined could end up so unmotivated. He wanted to live just days ago, and now, he wants to die. I don't understand it.

Realizing that we weren't going to say anymore else to each other, Haymitch spoke, "If you two are done, I'd like to talk a little bit about the arena. There may not be axes and such in the arena; show the Gamemakers what you can do – make them give you what you need for a good show. If all else fails, make sure you know how to make a weapon out of wood or rock. Are you good at crafting?"

"I'm not bad at it, but I'm not good either." I say.

"I can make something out of wood," says Peeta.

"You can probably use that for food in the wild – you could kill basic rodents in the woods, if they have woods; you could make a spear and stab fish; you can make all kinds of things," Says Haymitch. "Peeta, you should probably listen to Iris though. Your strength may come in handy in the arena, but right now; you can't focus on your best traits. In the Training Center, there will be equipment everywhere on display for you to use, but do not, and I repeat, do not show off your best skills. Improvise your skills in the meantime to distract them from knowing what you're good at and show off what you are good at in your private sessions with the Gamemakers. Are we clear?" says Haymitch.

Peeta and I both nod.

"Now, one last thing: I don't know what you two plan on doing for allies, but be open about it. If a career wants to talk to you and aren't being bloodthirsty, be open for discussion. I don't need you making enemies before the games even start. Repeat what I just said."

"Be open to allies, talk if talked to," I say.

"and don't make enemies before the games start," Peeta finishes.

"Good, now meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."

Peeta and I leave the room, avoiding eye contact after the heated discussion we had just had. I enter my room and slam my door, showing my disgust with him for giving up. I mean, how could he possibly do that?

It's ridiculous – Peeta was so determined just days ago to live, and now, he wanted to die. What kind of game is he playing, or is it even a game at all? Is he really so much in hatred with himself that he can't see his own talents in combat? I fall backwards onto my bed and gaze at the ceiling, analyzing the situation that had just occurred.

I hear myself, Peeta, and Haymitch all over again. The way Peeta worded his sentences and the way Haymitch observed the entire situation like it was some kind of war zone. But then again, it was a war zone. Peeta and I were at each other's throats with words and Haymitch was waiting on something rash. Maybe he'd dealt with explosive tributes before, I guess.

It's almost ten. I get up and clean my teeth; I look at my reflection, then I smooth my hair back to its original state after being messed up by the bed. I block out my thoughts of the argument and focus on the fact I am about to meet the rest of the tributes. I take a deep breath and pray my anxiety doesn't spike. Once I meet Peeta and Effie, I am calm and collected.

The elevator ride is silent, and I sense that Effie must be tense – Haymitch probably told her about this morning, and Peeta would not dare speak to me so soon. The doors opened to the massive gymnasium filled with all a variety of weapons and training grounds. Despite the time not being ten just yet, we're the last ones to arrive. They have the tributes gathered in a circle that Peeta and I soon join – we get numbers pinned on the back of us and once I glance around, I frown. Peeta and I happen to be the only two tributes who are matching.

Once we have our numbers on our back, the head trainer, Atala, begins explaining the entire concept of the training center and even gives us instructions of what to do and what to not do. We're free to travel the gymnasium, and we are not allowed to fight each other – which I find vaguely insulting that they have to say. Are we really that much of savages to them?

While Atala continues to explain everything, I find myself looking around the room in a bizarre kind of astonishment. The room is some kind of wonderful, but also lethal. I glance at the tributes and eye them without them noticing much since they are still focused on Atala. Eventually, my eyes land on Cato and I do my best to not glare. After he spoke to me last night the way he did, I'm unsure whether I should glare or just look. I must be somewhat detectable or Cato has some kind of sixth sense because he ends up looking at me.

He smirks playfully and I roll my eyes at him. His eyes aren't looking at me like he wants to kill me – yet, anyway – and more of he's curious about me. I don't understand it, though. What about me is so fascinating that he'd be willing to find out? Could it be the way I stood out when I volunteered for Prim, or could it be something else that I can't see? I bite the inside of my mouth and try to keep my cheeks from turning red.

His eyes shift from me and back to Atala and we move our attentions away from each other, but I find it hard to keep my focus. I'm too intrigued to find out what piqued his curiosity on me.

Atala releases us, and I turn to look for a station to begin at. Should I focus on sword fighting, even though I'd be awful at it? Should I focus on tying knots to prep me for the games? I don't know so I begin wandering around the room.

"Hey, girl on fire," I hear a voice call. Before I turn around, I already know who the voice belongs to.

"What, Cato?" I ask.

"Why don't you show me what you can do?" He suggests playfully, looking down at me. While I may not be short, I am not tall, and Cato happens to me very tall.

"Why? Are you trying to assess me so you can figure out how to kill me faster?" I deadpan.

He laughs, "no, I'm actually trying to figure out if you're a worthy ally. I know you don't lack courage and bravery, but do you have the skill to match it?"

I glare at him, "believe me, I do."

"Prove it."

Without saying a word, I turn to move towards the station where the axes are. The trainer hands me an axe and asks me if I am ready. I nod.

We move like dancers – I do one strike, he blocks and I keep swinging. I black out, reaching a zone I haven't reached before. The world around me slows, and I am able to figure out where the trainer will move to next. I swing, he blocks again, and I swing again. He barely misses my swing.

"Time," he calls.

I hand him the axe and walk away from the station and back to Cato, feeling like I've just proven everything. Once I reach him, he stands in awe. "good enough for you?" I ask, breathing more heavy than normal.

"That was phenomenal, Collins," says Cato.

"Yeah? I'm glad you liked it because it won't happen again until the arena." I say and turn away from him.

He grabs my wrist, "where are you going?"

"to make friends, Cato. You should try it instead of just picking on me." I say.

He laughs and grins, "now, where would the fun in that be?"

"Why do you enjoy picking on me so much?" I ask, trying to understand him just a little better.

"Because you're interesting – you aren't what I expected from District 12. You're like me, but just a little more within yourself." He says.

"I'm nothing like you."

"Keep telling yourself that, Iris. But when you finally figure it out, let me know." he says.

"I won't let you know since it isn't true, but nice talking to you, Cato. I'll let you know if I need an ally." I say, and then I walk away.

* * *

 **A/N: the soundtrack has been updated along with the cover, and cast.**

 **review and follow please!**

 **\- hormephobia**


	7. Chapter Six

**hi all, i'm back and ready to fix what i broke. my muse lmao. this is mostly just a filler chapter that i struggled to get through because honestly, dealing with Peeta without Katniss is kind of boring. she brought out the best in him and Iris just berates him most of the time. so, i'm working on making her less bitchy and more survival oriented. because up until now, she's just kinda salty with everyone and annoyed with everyone who isn't haymitch. oh, how we love our salty heroine.**

 **anyways, i'm v excited for the next three chapters and then the games. i like the survival aspect, but i also want a chance to shine on my descriptions.**

 **as a forewarning, my updates won't be fast simply because of work, but if i find myself in a state to where i can't quit writing, y'all gonna be BLESSED. and i also know there was a co-writer here at one point, but she was my beta who wanted credit. she lowkey quit, and has been striked from the record sans a certain chapter.**

 **OKAY**

 **CHAPTER TIME**

 **ENJOY**

* * *

 **C** **hapter Six**

After leaving Cato in awe over my declining of his offer to be allies, I find myself wandering around the center with my head unfocused on my surroundings and more steady on the fact that Cato wanted _me_ as an ally. What's so special about me that he wants me to be his ally? Is he interested in my combat style? Is he fascinated by the way I hold my own without someone telling me how to move? His interest in me as an ally makes little to no sense at all to me. He's trained for this all his life and calculated who would be a good ally from the beginning, I'm sure of it. Of all people, why would he try to choose me?

I shake the thoughts from my head and find a corner to observe; I look around the room to see what I'm going to be up against. The girl from District 1 is at the shooting range and not doing so well with the bow and arrow – Katniss would obliterate her with her skill; the boy from 1 is practicing with a sword and he's better than I expect. Clove, the girl from 2, is throwing knives at targets and not missing a single one. I wince at each hit, imagining us in the arena and her not holding back. The tributes from 3 are together at a table focused on electronics – they must hope there will be some things in the arena to survive with, but it's highly unlikely this will be the case. The boy from 4 along with the male tribute from 5, and the tributes from 6, 9, and 10 are all lined up to practice their climbing strength. The tributes from 7 are where I fought the axe instructor – it's probable they know how to use one since they come from the lumber district. District 5's girl – Foxface, since she looks like a sly fox – is at the memory station, hitting every tile and I must confess that I'm slightly impressed. District 8's tributes are in a corner speaking to one another in whispers, probably unsure of where they should go. The boy from 11 has ended up in line for the sword station, but the girl from 11 is nowhere to be seen. And that leaves Peeta, who happens to be at the art station.

I take a deep breath, ready to wander around and meet people, but I find myself walking towards the art station. I tap on Peeta's shoulder, "hi there," I say.

He's startled, or so he seems, and whips around instantly while leaving his arm behind him on the counter. Noticing it's me, he smiles, "hey, Iris."

"What are you working on?" I ask.

"I'm actually in the middle of painting my arm to look like a tree," he says, turning back around to focus more on his arm.

I move to his side and his arm looks realistic, "wow," I say, "you're really good at that."

"I did happen to be the cake painter in 12, for your information," he says, still focused on his arm.

Now that I think about it, there is no way that his parents or siblings could have come up with the designs that were on the cake. From what I know of Peeta, his talent is undeniable. "That makes much more sense," I say.

He looks up, confused and I explain, "I've looked at the cakes all my life and not once have I been entirely convinced anyone but you did the designs. Your parents are good at baking, but not so much on the designing."

Peeta snorts, "that's an understatement."

"Is it really that bad?" I ask.

He nods, and then goes quiet to re-focus on his arm. I'm about to leave before he speaks up again, "you said you'd seen our cakes all your life. If that's the case, how come I've never seen you in the bakery and never talked to you?"

"I do happen to be friends with Katniss, you know." I say.

"What does she have to do with anything?"

"Well, aside from you being the one that saved her family before I knew her, she may have a small crush on you." I say.

"What about Gale?" he deadpans.

I roll my eyes, "Gale and her are more friendly than anything. It's mostly one-sided. Besides liking Katniss, he may have a small little crush on me too."

"Of course he likes you both, Katniss is hard to understand and you're the ideal one to get to know," Peeta says, thinking out loud.

"The ideal one to get to know? Excuse me, what?" I ask.

Peeta chuckles, "you're more friendly than Katniss and you think before you speak, unlike her."

I roll my eyes again, "let's just change the topic."

He nods his head in agreement, "what brought you over here anyway? I mean, it probably wasn't my good looks."

I snort, "actually, no. I was in the middle of evading Cato."

"Why? What'd you do to get his attention?" Peeta asks.

"See, that's the thing. I'm not entirely sure what I did to get him to ask me to be his ally." I say.

Peeta stops and turns to face me with eyebrows raised, "did you just say that he wants you as an ally?"

I shrug it off, "it's not like I'm taking him up on his offer. It's a death wish to side with the Careers – they'll stab you in the back the second they get the chance."

"Iris," Peeta begins, "this is your chance to get back to your family and back to 12. You have to align yourself with Cato."

" _My_ chance? What about you, Peeta? Are you still counting on dying in the arena? Is that really what you think is going to happen? God, I can't believe how willing you are to give up on living." I shake my head and look away from him before I spit the rest of my thoughts out, "I wish the boy on the train was still here."

Peeta remained silent, and I was done speaking until he decided to talk again. He went back to painting his arm while I pretended to watch the rest of the room while deep in thought. We stayed this way for a good three minutes before I got annoyed with the silence. While we were ignoring each other, my brain got to storming and I developed an interesting idea. "Peeta," I say, "what if you and I form an alliance?"

This catches his attention, "you and me in an alliance?"

I nod, "think about it: we could help each other survive and make it to at least the final five and then go our own ways."

He halts and stares at me. I assume he's pondering the time we would last together, and then he speaks, "okay. I'm in, but do you want it to be just us two?"

"Unless there's someone who isn't Cato that will join, yes." Peeta rolls his eyes as I say this and I glare at him, "what?"

"There you go, mentioning Cato again." Peeta chuckles softly and I keep glaring.

"Look, I'm only mentioning him so much because I can't handle how much of a prideful, bloodthirsty ass he is," I snap quietly, making sure that the conversation topic stays between only Peeta and I, "if he wasn't too busy lusting after me for God knows why, _maybe_ I'd consider it. But right now? Hell no."

Peeta takes all I said in and then he just shrugs, "If you don't want him in the alliance, that's fine by me. However -" he stops and stares behind me for a second, but then snaps his attention back to me, "as I was saying, if you don't want him in the alliance, that's fine, but if you want him to not die before the games start, you might want to go calm him down."

Puzzled by Peeta's remark, I turn around and bear witness to one of the most needlessly melodramatic scenes I have seen in a very long time. Cato's blue eyes are narrowed into slits at one of the boys from District 9, who is equally enraged. What the conflict is, I don't care enough to know, but what I do see is the girl from 1, and Clove trying to calm him, but he simply pushes them out the way.

Taking a deep breath, irritated with myself for the act of bravery I am about to commit, I make my way towards Cato and step in front of him. He sees beyond me, simply staring at the boy behind me - his head must be filled with red, seeing only the thing he was trained to do: kill. Realizing that there is no way he will stop, I put my hands on his chest. I see the girl from 1 tense and Clove's eyes then narrow into slits as well. Ignoring them, I look up at him and whisper, "Cato."

Eyes still narrowed, his lip twitches and I know he's aware that I'm in front of him. He still looks beyond me and I continue whispering, "Cato, look at me. If you kill him now, they'll kill you. You won't make it to the games and you won't be able to make your district proud." The last sentence tastes bitter on my tongue - the disgust I have more 'making districts proud' makes me want to stab myself in the torso, but I push the feeling down. There's no use in dwelling on my words when they've already escaped my lips.

He takes a deep breath and he shifts his eyes to me, widening them from the blue slits. He stares down at me and I can tell he wants to make a snide comment, or perhaps a snarky one. Before I think he won't, he does, "what's the matter, girl on fire? Scared I'm gonna die before you get a chance to kill me yourself?"

Ignoring his comment, I turn to leave. He places a hand on my shoulder and I recoil, "keep your hands off of me, Cato." I snap.

He retracts his hand and mutters, "Just wanted to say thanks."

I whip around and glare at him, he glares back. We stay like this for a minute until the girl from 1 steps in front of him and mumbles something that I can hardly understand. He sighs and shakes his head.

"The offer still stands, by the way." He says as he turns to leave.

Knowing what I'm about to say, I ignore all warning signs saying that I'll hate myself for this later, "Cato," I begin, "I'm in."

* * *

 **DUN DUN DUN.**

 **What did Glimmer say? Is Clove going to try to put her knife in Iris' head? Is Cato going to betray Iris? Has Iris completely and officially lost her damn mind? Am I going to write myself out of this rut?**

 **WHO KNOWS**

 **Find out next time on Starcrossed**


	8. Chapter Seven

**i'm kind of shook with myself. this came out faster than intended, and i got this weird rush of ambition and determination to finish this story. i have like 30 million ideas for the sequel already (because this is finally planned out) and i want to execute them so badly. catching fire was my favorite book and my favorite movie from this franchise and i cannot WAIT to show my love for it.**

 **also, i know this is extremely short compared to my usual chapters, but i did as much as i could with it, you feel?**

 **anyways, i've been bumming out by now saying DISCLAIMER, I OWN NOTHING, so let me do that.**

 **enjoy tho.**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

Cato's body tenses the second the words escape my lips and I can't help but wonder if he knew from the very beginning that I would say no. I notice that before I told him that I'm in, the girl from one and Clove departed. Before turning around, he pauses and stands in place for less than ten seconds, but he eventually does so and faces me in astonishment and confusion.

"You want in now?" He asks, completely stunned that I changed my mind.

I nod, "my only chance for survival is to stick with you."

I'd be lying if I said that I'd rather die than stick with him due to the immense blood lust that Cato has, but I'd rather see my family and friends again. I want to see Gale and Katniss within the woods outside of twelve; I want to make sure my mother is okay and able to seek the medical help she needs; I want to see my dad and his worn, kind eyes again; I want to see Prim and tell her that I'm sorry for the way I misled her; I want to live. The only way to achieve this goal is to go against all my instincts and the feeling in my gut by siding with Cato and forming a deadly alliance. I ponder if this is simply my survival instincts taking over my brain or if my brain has suddenly decided it wants to use all my willpower in the arena with the art of manipulation.

He snorts, "I doubt that. I've seen you with an axe, remember?" I cringe; I forgot that I showed off specifically when Haymitch asked Peeta and I not to. Pushing the disappointment in myself down, I shake my head.

"Just because I'm skilled with a weapon doesn't mean I have what it takes to survive. It's more than just battle skill, Cato." I say.

"I'm aware of that, but like I've said before, you're like me. You survive." He says.

I roll my eyes, "you keep saying that and I still have no clue what you mean by it."

He inches closer to me, shaking his head, "of course you have no clue. But I'm not about to tell you what I mean. There'll be plenty of time for talk later; for now, we need to train."

I narrow my eyes into slits, "I have conditions if I'm going to be in your alliance, Cato."

"And what are those conditions?"

"You, me, and one other. I don't want Clove or the tributes from one and two in this alliance," I say as he clenches his jaw shut. "I trust no one here but Peeta. If I'm going to be in an alliance, I want to be able to trust at least someone so I know I won't die in the bloodbath from disloyalty."

Taking a moment of pondering, he agrees to my terms, "Fine. But the careers won't be happy with me or you, for that matter. We'll be their first target, I hope you know that."

I snort, "I'm aware. But I also have ideas about how to get around that. I'll talk it over with Peeta first, and then I'll let you know."

"So is that a yes on the training, though?" He asks with a smirk.

Rolling my eyes, I answer, "Yes."

* * *

The next few days are hectic, filled to the brim with training and Cato pushing me to my limit. He thinks I'm holding back in my style of battling, and I tell him I'm not. Though, in reality, I am. I gave myself away to him too early and even Haymitch agreed with me. Despite the fact Haymitch was impressed that I snagged an alliance with a Career, he still lectured me for an hour about the dangers of me doing so.

The day after we agreed to form an alliance, I talked the situation over with Peeta - who snorted when I told him I agreed to Cato's alliance. Relieved that I secured us one Career, he remains on edge around the boy from District 2. I can't blame him, though. When I find myself remembering Cato is a Career, I tense up as well. As time went, the three of us crafted a plan. Cato is to play the Careers - make them think he is with them and on their side. This is so he will be able to get anything we need from the Cornucopia when the games start; Peeta and I are to run South of whatever position we start in and I will break off to hide near the Cornucopia to keep an eye out for Cato. Once we have the things we need, we establish a base camp and wait to find out who died the first day. From the on, we count down until there are 5 left. Once we reach the number of 5, we part ways.

In theory, the plan is a good one. In reality, the plan could backfire before the games even start; the Careers could catch on and we will have humiliated ourselves by coming up with some a bizarre plan. But we hope that the Careers are more useless and unintelligent than they seem.

On the third day of training is when the real fun would begin; the Gamemakers would be judging our skills on a scale from zero to twelve, and Peeta and I were absolutely terrified. Cato was assuring us that we were fine, but we couldn't help that our anxiety levels were beyond us.

In the room that we wait in, Cato sits next to Clove with his head down, possibly deep in thought. Peeta sits next to me with ragged breathing, trying to keep himself calm and I take a deep breath before I lose my mind, struggling to determine what skill I will show.

They come one by one, calling the male tribute of the district before the girl, and this goes on until they summon Peeta. He goes to stand and swallows hard; I squeeze his hand before he leaves, "Remember, show them the best skill you have, Peeta."

He nods, "and you remember that the axe is your savior."

I nod and he goes forward. I bite my bottom lip, anxious for what the outcome for him will be - not even bothering to think about myself anymore. The pressure to be perfect for the Gamemakers is immense and I can hardly calm myself; my right leg bounces up and down in a pattern.

Fifteen minutes pass, and the silence is nauseating. They call my name and I stand, taking a deep breath. I run my fingers through my loose hair and walk into the gymnasium. It's large, clearly perfect for those who need the space. Once I enter, I can feel the pressure thicken. The Gamemakers have been impressed again and again, and now, they bear witness to a girl from twelve with the bravery of a lion. This the make it or break it moment for me - the moment I show them what I will need in the arena. It's more than just a talent show.

Scanning the room as I walk towards the center, I notice a table full of weaponry; an archery range; a painting station among so much more. As I approach the weapon table, there's a double sided axe. I smirk as I see it, knowing that they've been studying us better than they care to admit.

I grab the axe, swinging it several times to make sure I have the feel of the way it is used. Once I feel established, I look towards the Gamemakers. Seneca Crane, this year's Gamemaker nods so that I may begin and I stand in the center of the platform that leads to the faux bodies. I throw it forward and it hits a body in the chest. I look behind me and only two of the many above me have noticed. Boredom became them, I see.

Anger flowing in my veins, I realize I must get more bold. Walking forward, I grab the body I threw the axe into and drag it towards the table where all the paints and decorations reside. Slamming it down, I dip my fingers into the paint and begin constructing a face that was sure to capture the attention of these useless, Capitol fiends. Dragging the body back to where it was, I place it upright and walk towards the center.

"If I may have all of your attention, please," I yell at them. They turn to face me and I hear collective gasps. Considering this as my cue to officially begin, I grab my axe and throw it - aiming towards the head. It's a clean cut and directly in the middle of the forehead. Feeling a swell of pride, I turn to look behind me at the wide-eyed stares and agape mouths.

A faux body with the face of Seneca Crane has an axe in the middle of his forehead.

I purse my lips into a smug smile.

"Thank you for your consideration," I say and take a bow.

I walk out the room feeling like I accomplished something, but deep in my gut, I know I may have just caused the very reason I survive this game of death or the very reason that I die in the initial blood bath.

* * *

 **and cue the rocks and tomatoes being thrown at me for doing another cliffhanger, but fun fact: i'm already writing chapter eight. i'm on a roll here.**

 **xx**


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